Warm
by Alohaemora
Summary: She felt warmer, safer, stronger, and more real in Ted's arms than she could ever hope to feel otherwise. Because Ted Tonks—from his straw-colored hair, to his mellow voice, to his twinkling, blue eyes—was warm, and Andromeda Black had only ever known cold.


5 November 1972

"Mmm…I love you."

Ted's low chuckle rumbled against Andromeda's chest as he wrapped his strong, warm arms around her and pulled her closer under the bedcovers. Humming in agreement, he kissed her neck. "I love you, too," he murmured in her ear, his voice raw and gravelly—and a pleasant shiver chased down Andromeda's spine.

She smiled, rolling over so that she could see his face. Gently, she reached up and ran her fingers through his soft blond hair. Then, with a tired sigh, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, before sitting up in bed and fishing around the quilts for her robes.

"What're you doing?" Ted asked, propping himself up onto his elbows and frowning at her.

"I've got to get to my aunt and uncle's house," Andromeda said wearily, pulling her robes on and shaking out her long, wavy brown hair. "I'm taking wedding photographs in twenty minutes."

Ted snorted, slipping out of the bedcovers himself and yanking on a pair of black-and-yellow pajama trousers. "Sounds charming."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "The only _charming_ thing about Rabastan Lestrange is that he doesn't talk much, thank Merlin. I don't think I could bear listening to that idiot try and string words together all day."

"Well, maybe once you marry him, you'll be able to teach him some conversational skills," Ted said sarcastically, bending down and reaching for a rumpled gray T-shirt on the floor of his flat's cozy bedroom.

Andromeda finished tying the end of her plait with a _snap_ of her hair ribbon and threw Ted a dirty look. "You know full well I have no intention of marrying him, Ted."

Ted didn't respond, avoiding her eyes as he pulled his T-shirt over his head and tugged it straight. Andromeda narrowed her eyes at him, standing up a little straighter. "Ted—"

At last, Ted turned around to face her—and his expression was frighteningly blank. Andromeda's breath caught in her throat.

"What are we doing, 'Dromeda?" he asked flatly.

Andromeda stared at him, slightly openmouthed. "What?" she whispered.

"I just…I don't know if I can do this anymore," Ted said quietly.

Bile—or perhaps some form of dizzying horror—leaped to the back of Andromeda's throat, and she suddenly felt unbearably lightheaded. Blindly, she reached out and seized the nearby bedpost, gazing at Ted in shock. "Ted," she gasped. "Are you breaking up—?"

"No," Ted said at once, sounding horrified with himself. Striding forward, he took her hands in his and squeezed them, his expression earnest. " _No_ —of course not." He paused, swallowing heavily and staring at her. "I…I'm just _tired_ of sneaking around, Andromeda. You keep saying you aren't going to marry Lestrange, but—"

"Because I'm _not_ ," Andromeda said angrily, glaring at him. "It's just…it's _complicated_. You _know_ what my family's like, Ted—I can't just take off! I've got to plan this out, every detail—I've got to say goodbye to Sirius—there's so much I've still got to do—"

"Well, then, let me help you," Ted said desperately. "Just tell me what to do—I'll do it. I'd do anything for you, 'Dromeda, you know that."

Andromeda trailed off midsentence, staring at Ted. The loyalty and sincerity radiating from his bright blue eyes was making her feel lightheaded again. Pulling her hands out of his, she gripped his bedpost again and closed her eyes, releasing a slow, deep breath to steady herself.

Then, at last, she opened her eyes and faced him. "There's nothing you can do," she told him in a low voice. "You just…you need to give me some time, all right?"

Ted's expression grew hard. "You always do this," he said fiercely, rubbing the side of his face. "You—whenever your family's involved, you just—you shut me out—"

"You have no idea what they'd _do_ to you!" Andromeda cried, shaking her head. "Ted, I won't risk your safety for _anything_ , do you understand me? I'm not going to leave my family until I know that I've done _everything_ I can to protect you—"

"Andromeda," Ted said quietly, his blue eyes blazing. "I don't need protection."

Andromeda closed her mouth, swallowing. "Ted, you don't under—"

"For the love of— _don't_ tell me I don't understand," Ted exclaimed incredulously. "Look, Andromeda—I know I haven't got much," Ted gestured around at the tiny, unkempt bedroom of his three-room Diagon Alley flat. "I know—I _know_ it's not what you're used to—but I _love_ you. Surely, that counts for _something_."

"Teddy," Andromeda whispered, dumbfounded. "Of course it does—"

"Then, stay," Ted said earnestly. "Stay with me. For once in your life, 'Dromeda, let _me_ protect _you_."

Andromeda stared at Ted, speechless—and a pregnant silence stretched out between them for a long moment, growing heavier and heavier, until—

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ted," Andromeda whispered, snatching her cloak up from the footboard of his bed, before turning around and hurrying out of the flat.

* * *

It was seven o'clock when Andromeda got to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place—exactly fifteen minutes before the wedding photographer was due to arrive at her aunt and uncle's house. Tossing her cloak onto one of the hooks in the townhouse's shadowy foyer, Andromeda attempted to straighten her disheveled hair. She was feeling peculiarly lightheaded again—no doubt due to her shoddy and unfocused apparition onto the top step of Grimmauld Place's front porch—so she gave her head a sharp shake as she hurried down the corridor.

"Sorry—sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly, swinging into the parlor. "I'm so sorry, I lost track of—oh."

Andromeda skidded to a halt in the doorway to the parlor, her jaw dropping slightly. The drawing room was full of people—the wedding photographer had already arrived and was setting up his equipment in the center of the room. Father and Uncle Orion were engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Lestrange, Rabastan's father. Mrs. Lestrange and Aunt Walburga were gossiping by the bay windows. Rodolphus and Rabastan were crammed into the identical wingback armchairs by the fireplace, and Bellatrix was stretched out on the arm of Rodolphus's chair, examining her fingernails listlessly.

" _Andromeda_."

Andromeda jumped, swiveling around. Mother was sweeping up the drawing room towards her, her expression furious.

Andromeda swallowed, stepping forward. "Mother, I—"

"You're late," Mother hissed, seizing Andromeda's wrist and steering her into the parlor. "Where have you _been?_ The photographer arrived five minutes ago!"

"I'm sorry, Mother, I was with Felicia and Lucia, and I lost track of time," Andromeda whispered, trying to sound as contrite as possible as she followed her mother past the fireplace; Rabastan glanced up as she passed him and gave her a nod. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be tardy."

Mother's expression softened slightly as she led Andromeda into a room off of the parlor, where Andromeda's breathtakingly beautiful, custom-made, pearly white wedding gown was hanging in midair and being steamed by Kreacher.

"Out," Mother told Kreacher, and the elf gave her a low bow, before turning and leaving the room. "Here," Mother waved her wand at the gown, and it floated towards Andromeda. "Put it on—and a bit of makeup, and meet us outside in five minutes. The photographer's getting impatient."

Andromeda nodded swiftly, already shaking her hair back and unbuttoning her robes.

Mother swept back towards the door—but then, with her hand around the doorknob, she paused and glanced at Andromeda over her shoulder. "You were with Felicia and Lucia? The Avery twins?"

Andromeda nodded. "Yes, we were in Diagon Alley—at Twilfitt and Tattings. I'm sorry, Mother, I should have left earlier."

Mother looked mollified. "Well, it's quite all right," she said briskly. "I hope you gave the Avery family our best wishes, at the least." She gave Andromeda a thin-lipped smile, then turned and brushed out of the room, her stately green robes rippling behind her.

Andromeda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to alleviate the knot of anxiety that was twisting nauseatingly in the pit of her stomach.

Fifteen minutes later, Andromeda opened the door to the room herself and stepped out into the hallway once again. Her long brown hair was coiled into an elegant knot at the back of her head—and she had applied dashes of pink to her cheeks and lips. Squaring her shoulders and smoothing out her gown, Andromeda entered the parlor.

" _Ah_ , there she is," boomed Father's voice from the center of the parlor, where he and Uncle Orion were sipping Chardonnay with Mr. Lestrange. "You look excellent, darling. Like a true Black, if I ever saw one."

Andromeda smiled weakly at him. "Thank you, Father."

"Oh, you're absolutely _stunning_ , Andromeda," Aunt Walburga gushed, as she stepped forward to admire her. "But here—one final touch—" Aunt Walburga reached up and unclasped her own shimmering diamond necklace—a Black family heirloom, Andromeda knew. Leaning forward, she fastened it securely around Andromeda's neck. Then, as she drew back, Andromeda caught a sudden whiff of her aunt's pungent, sandalwood-scented perfume—and her stomach gave an unexpected lurch. She put a hand to her abdomen, pressing her lips together.

"Well, it's nice of you to finally join us, Meda," Bellatrix drawled, as she slipped off the armrest of Rodolphus's chair and came to stand in the center of the drawing room, considering Andromeda imperiously. "I feel like I've barely seen you these past few months."

"Oh, leave her be, Bella," Uncle Orion chuckled, patting Bellatrix's shoulder. "She's just finished school—and in a month's time, she'll be a married woman, just like you. She deserves a little freedom, does she not?"

Andromeda's stomach gave another unpleasant lurch.

"All right, then, are we ready to get started?" asked the photographer in a reedy, little voice.

"Yes," said Mrs. Lestrange, before Andromeda could respond. "Come, Rabastan. Stand with your bride-to-be."

Rabastan's hulking form grunted and rose from the armchair by the hearth to join Andromeda in the center of the drawing room.

"All right," the photographer said, twisting his wispy black beard around his finger thoughtfully. "Miss Black, over here, if you will…and Mr. Lestrange, just stand right beside her, yes, yes…very good…and put your hands on her waist, please—yes, just like that, thank you…"

Andromeda gritted her teeth slightly as Rabastan's clumsy hands found her waist, but she lifted her chin and arranged her face into a practiced, haughty smile—her best imitation of Bellatrix.

"She's looking a little peaky," said Mrs. Lestrange suddenly, in a critical voice, stepping forward. "Have you been ill, Andromeda?"

Andromeda stared at her, blinking rapidly. "No—no, ma'am, I haven't."

"Hmm…you _are_ a little paler than usual," Mother observed, joining Mrs. Lestrange and peering into Andromeda's face. "But it's nothing a little more makeup won't fix. Here—" Mother stepped forward, withdrawing a compact blush and a makeup brush from her robes. Flicking the blush open, she picked up the brush and began sweeping some of the reddish-pink powder onto Andromeda's cheekbones.

"Much better," Mrs. Lestrange declared, nodding approvingly. "Merlin, wherever did you find this blush, Druella? It's magnificent."

"Madam Primpernelle's, in Diagon Alley," Mother smiled, stepping back and appraising Andromeda. "She started making it specially for me, back when I was expecting Bella—I always used to look so sickly when I was pregnant. If you'd like, I'll let her know to set some aside for you the next time I'm in the Alley, Yessenia."

Mrs. Lestrange smiled. "That would be lovely, thank you."

"Are we ready to take the photos now?" the photographer asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"Oh—yes, of course," Mother said, stepping aside and allowing the photographer to direct his camera at Rabastan and Andromeda.

"Excellent," the photographer mumbled. "Mr. Lestrange, stand a little taller, please…and Miss Black, look over here. Miss Black? Miss Black, are you listening to me?"

Andromeda gave a little start, looking around to find that everyone was staring at her expectantly. "Oh—sorry," she said faintly, moving to take her place beside Rabastan again. Straightening her shoulders, she faced the camera, trying to look regal and proud—but her mother's voice was ringing painfully in her ears like a twisted, unforgiving mantra: _"I always used to look so sickly when I was pregnant."_

Surely…surely, it wasn't possible…she and Ted were always so careful…they took every manner of precaution…but she had been feeling dizzy and off-color all week…and— _oh_ , she needed to find a calendar…

"Look sharp, Miss Black," the photographer said crisply, holding up his flash bulb and ducking behind the cape on the back of the camera. "Ready? One—two—three—"

With a brilliant flash, the shutter snapped, and the camera released a cloud of harsh-smelling purple smoke that crashed over Andromeda like a tidal wave. And then, the very next instant—before she could even begin to think about excusing herself from the room—Andromeda doubled over, vomiting spectacularly onto Rabastan Lestrange's shiny black shoes.

* * *

Andromeda stood at the top of the outdoor staircase to Ted's flat at eleven o'clock in the evening, shivering in the biting cold. She was still wearing her long, satiny wedding gown, but her brown hair was disheveled—and Aunt Walburga's diamond necklace had come undone and was dangling from Andromeda's neckline, swinging wildly as Andromeda banged on Ted's front door.

After several minutes of being fussed over and offered every type of stomach bug-alleviating potion imaginable, Andromeda had eventually been forced to continue with the wretched wedding photoshoot. But two hours of fake smiles and Bellatrix's taunting smirks had been nothing compared to the emotional upheaval she had experienced after dinner, when she had finally, _finally_ gotten her hands on a calendar.

"Open the door," Andromeda begged in a hysterical whisper, knocking even louder. "Open the door, Ted, _please_ …"

Suddenly, Andromeda heard the sound of a gas lamp crackling to life behind the front door, and she gasped, jerking upright. Then, at long last, the door swung open, and Ted stood before her, his blond hair tousled and his eyes bleary. He blinked uncomprehendingly at her for a moment.

Then, his jaw dropped. " _Andromeda?_ " he gasped. "Why are you—what're you _wearing?_ " he asked, taking in her bizarre ensemble with a flabbergasted expression.

Andromeda swallowed, wrapping her freezing arms around herself. "Ted, I'm pregnant," she blurted out.

There was a long, ringing silence, as Ted gazed at her, his expression blank.

"T-Ted?" she murmured anxiously, after several moments.

"You're pregnant," he said slowly, still staring at her. "Pregnant," he repeated. "With child," he further clarified.

"Yes," Andromeda whispered, shivering terribly now, as the needle-sharp wind dug into her arms. "Y-yes, Teddy…I am."

There was another tense pause.

Then, to Andromeda's utter astonishment, Ted began to laugh—a soft chuckle, at first—but in a matter of seconds, it had become a rumbling, belly laugh.

"Ted?" Andromeda asked under her breath, dumbstruck.

Shoulders shaking, Ted fell back against the doorframe and gaped at her. "You're pregnant!" he exclaimed incredulously, his blue eyes lit up with a radiant, delighted grin. "A baby, 'Dromeda—a _baby!_ "

And just like that, Andromeda's tension broke. Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she flew forward and flung herself into Ted's arms—which caught her easily, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Aunt Walburga's precious, heirloom necklace slipped off of Andromeda's neck and fell to the ground, but she barely noticed. She felt warmer, safer, _stronger_ , and more _real_ in Ted's arms than she could ever hope to feel otherwise. Because Ted Tonks—from his straw-colored hair, to his mellow voice, to his twinkling, blue eyes—was warm, and Andromeda Black had only ever known cold.

* * *

Author's Note:

If you're reading my Remus Lupin story 'Human Spirit,' you'll probably recognize this whole situation from Ch 11 :)

Anywho, this story was written for two things on HPFC: 1) Round II of The Crownless Queen's "Without" Competition (My task was to write about the emotion "powerful" without using the actual word.) and 2) Coding Gengar's World-Building Prompt Challenge (My task was to write about the dating custom of an old pure-blood family.).

Ari


End file.
